


A Bold Woman

by Find_a_Way



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M, Married Smut, PWP, Porn with a little purpose, Turnadette - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 05:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16591322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Find_a_Way/pseuds/Find_a_Way
Summary: Married several years, Shelagh and Patrick find it difficult to make time for each other.  One night, Shelagh takes matters into her own hands.





	A Bold Woman

She had such plans. For the first time in nearly two weeks, both she and Patrick were off for the entire night. With Tim off at university, they’d had to split the nights on duty, instead of sharing the shifts. Patrick had looked tired at the dinner table tonight, but she was certain he’d stood just a bit closer than necessary as they washed up after the meal. And there was most assuredly a gleam in his eye as they settled the children for the night.

But then Teddy spilled his cocoa on his lovey, and Angela forgot her storybook at school, and the evening went from relaxed and settled to chaos. A stressful half-hour later, Patrick slumped off to the bath and Shelagh to the kitchen to complete preparations for the morning.

The lower level always grew a bit chilly of an evening, and Shelagh pulled her dressing gown tight about her as she set out the breakfast things. Warm and serviceable, the pale blue flannel was not what she had expected to be wearing this evening. She glanced outside at the garden thermometer. They’d need their winter coats in the morning.  
Angela and Teddy both had new coats, and she hung them on the lowest of the hooks. Her own coat was new last spring, purchased at an end of the season sale. Its bright pink bore a sharp contrast to Patrick’s sharp black wool. His red scarf was stuffed in a pocket. It would be a wrinkly mess, she clicked her tongue and took it out for smoothing.  
It was soft and silky, and without a thought, she pressed it to her face and breathed in his scent. She missed the smell of him, warm and Patricky, and remembered sensations flooded her body. 

It was quiet upstairs, had been for some time now. Was Patrick finished in the bath? She hurried up the stairs, hoping that their night could be salvaged. 

Even the click of the lock on the bedroom door stirred her. A short bolt of steel in place would keep the world out, or at least the two little ones asleep in their beds down the hall, and she would have her husband all to herself.

She slipped her robe from her shoulders and stepped around the room divider to the bed. Patrick lay there, propped against the headboard with his book dropped against his chest, snoring slightly.

She could let him sleep, and she might have done if she hadn’t noticed the scent of cologne. Patrick had hopes for this night, too.

She smiled, and slipped her knickers down her legs before sitting upon the edge of the bed, careful not to wake him. She wanted to ease him back to consciousness through a fog of arousal. The pyjama buttons slipped out easily, each one revealing a few more inches of skin. A deep breath escaped his lungs and she spread his shirt open.

Her throat was tight and her breath ragged as her fingers hovered over his smooth skin. Lightly, she pressed her fingertips, then palms to his chest, and his eyes fluttered open.  
“Shhh,” she whispered, her finger to his lips. 

His eyes darkened, but he remained still. 

She continued her exploration of his exposed skin, taking her time to cover every inch of his exposed chest and abdomen. When she arrived at the top edge of his pyjama bottoms, she looked up at him through her lashes. “Should I stop?” she whispered.

He shook his head, unwilling to break to the silence of heartbeats.

A sly smile crossed her lips. One finger slipped beneath the fabric and ran along the waistband. She paused beneath his navel and toyed with the coarse hair that grew there. His hips twitched and he released a sharp breath, as if begging her for more. 

With a throaty laugh, she withdrew her finger and nodded. She wanted more, too.

Her eyes locked on his and she tugged the drawstring open. Grasping the fabric, she drew it lower, just enough to reveal the broadening trail of dark hair.   
“More?” she asked.

He swallowed thickly and licked his lips. 

She tugged the red fabric lower, revealing the tip of his stiffening penis. 

“More,” she answered her own question. Deftly she pulled his bottoms past his erection and tossed them to the floor, her eyes never leaving his stiff flesh. In her plans for the night, she had thought to take him in her hand, stroking the skin so silky over the hardness until he cried out with the need for completion, but she knew she needed him inside her, and soon. 

But not too soon. She drew a ragged breath and took him in her hand. He was hot and hard against her palm as she stroked the long length of him, his hips pushing up into her hand. She had no idea what happened to other men at this moment, but she loved how it seemed his shaft grew thicker with each throb. 

Wetness pooled between her legs and a muscle deep inside her clenched achingly for his fullness. She looked up to see his head thrown back against the pillow, his face tight with restraint. He was close, she knew. A few more strokes, or if she dared, the warm wetness of her mouth on him, and he would come. 

“My love?” she whispered, moving her hands to his narrow hips.

Panting, he opened his eyes and followed her gaze. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. He took a deep breath, then another. “No,” he answered between panting breaths. “I want to be inside of you—I need to feel you moving above me, Shelagh. Take me in you. Take me slowly, Shelagh. Drive me mad.”

She leant forward and kissed him for the first time that night. His mouth opened under hers as their tongues touched with wet velvety kisses. “Show me what you want,” he whispered against her lips.

A thrill ran through her. Emboldened, she pushed up and straddled him. Her nightgown billowed over them, hiding him from view, and she tugged it over her head. She wanted to see him as she made love to him, and she wanted to be seen.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groaned. 

She bent to kiss him again, light flicks of her tongue against his lips. Her hands slid up his chest to rest upon his shoulders as she lowered herself towards him, hovering just close enough for the tips of her breasts to graze against his skin. She liked that. She teased the tight peaks, shifting in circles over him. 

He reached for her and cupped her breasts in his big hands. He squeezed lightly and stroked his thumbs across her nipples. She moaned, wanting more, and slipped her tongue deep into his mouth. 

His erection throbbed against her, reminding her of her plan. She pulled away from his kiss and took his hands away. Sitting high on him, she began to writhe against him, back and forth, side to side, as she nestled his stiff shaft between her wet folds. His eyes were open, watching her move above him, and she gloried in the desire she saw there.   
She rocked her hips, sliding over him and soon his thick erection was slippery with her desire. Ripples of pleasure radiated from her swollen vulva and conscious thought fled. Her body took over. She tilted her hips and slid down to the base of the shaft, then slowly dragged along to the very tip, then back down to the base. She repeated the motion, this time leaning forward, pressing the tight nub of flesh against the tip of his penis. She whimpered. 

“You like that, don’t you?” Patrick breathed, his hands curving around her smooth buttocks. 

She moaned, the sensual percussion against her clitoris intense. 

“You’re so wet.” He slid his hands around and pressed his thumbs against her inner thighs, gliding over the damp skin. Her pace quickened. “Come for me, Shelagh,” he coaxed.   
With his words, bright bursts of light flashed behind her eyelids as she orgasmed, sudden and sharp. She gasped for air and fell against his chest.

“That’s my bold girl,” he soothed. 

Still breathing heavily, and the throbbing from her climax not quite finished, she moved again. He had begged to be inside her, a desire she shared. As she pushed her hips away, his erection sprang up between them. Taking him in her hand again, she stroked him gently then eased herself onto him. 

Still sensitive from her climax, she balanced on the edge of pleasure and desire as she stretched around him, wet and hot. She slipped lower, then slid back up his length, each time taking more of him into her until finally they were flesh to flesh. She lingered there. 

“Ohhhh…” she breathed. “How you fill me.” She arched her back and groaned. She was ready for more.

Slowly, she began to rock up and down his length, their breathing keeping pace with her quickened thrusts. His hands moved up from her hips, over her abdomen, and came to rest beneath her swaying breasts. The tips of his fingers brushed at the swelled flesh, and she whispered a plea.

“Touch me.”

He teased the tight pink buds, plucking them between forefinger and thumb. She gasped, desperate for more, and she shifted to take him deeper. 

With a grunt, he grasped her hips to pull himself forward and took a puckered nipple into his mouth. He sucked at the sensitive bud, tongue lashing, teeth nipping. The rough stubble of his day-old beard rasped at her swollen breast, tingling against the sensitive skin. Her hands gripped convulsively at his shoulders to keep her balance as she writhed above him. 

“Yes,” she groaned. “Yes...more…” 

He moved to the other breast, his fingers playing with the wet nipple he’d released from his torture. He sucked the tip deep into his mouth, his groan rumbling in his chest.  
Unlike her earlier orgasm, this one began slowly, rippling through her. Ecstasy crashed over her, wild and uncontrolled, followed by wave after wave of pleasure concentrated on the feel of him pushing into her. The walls of her vagina tightened convulsively around his erection, the rhythmic contractions triggering his own orgasm. His head fell back in rapture as he throbbed his release deep inside her. 

There was no breath, no heartbeat, no sound, only the joyful explosion. When breath finally did return, it brought with it awareness of the heat flooding her face, the roar of blood in her ears, the feel of his abdominal muscles trembling with the effort of supporting them both.

She took his face between her hands and traced the beloved planes with the tip of her nose. His hands splayed wide across her back, pressing her close as their bliss became less primal, more conscious.

“I needed you so badly, my love,” his voice was dark and husky. 

She raised her head and smiled into his eyes. With little effort, she pushed him back against his pillows and moved to lie beside him. Still entangled, wrapped in each other’s arms, they drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> It wasn't until my beta mentioned it, but my last two fics here a sort of bookends of the same idea. Shelagh's path is so fascinating. I hope I've been able to make it sexy, too!


End file.
